


one is silver

by sixpences



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Anal Sex, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Cock Warming, Exhibitionism, Light Bondage, M/M, Medal Bondage, Oral Sex, Possessiveness, Top Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixpences/pseuds/sixpences
Summary: There is, it turns out, more than one use for an Olympic medal.





	one is silver

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a little while, huh? With thanks to the mean internet lesbians who helped me actually get this one out of the gate <3

In the bathroom mirror, an Olympic medallist stares back at him. Yuuri wets his lips and makes another pass over his hair with the gel, before rinsing it off his hands and reaching for his glasses. There's no actual need for him to do this- he knows for a fact that Victor will happily fall at his feet even when he looks and feels like a complete disaster- but there's something grounding about a few moments to himself, pulling together all his scattered threads into a focused whole. He pushes his glasses up his nose and, after a moment's consideration, pulls his white Team Japan jacket on over his bare chest.

In the bedroom the soft lamplight picks out every beautiful line of Victor's body, arranged on the bed even more artfully than Yuuri had left him a moment ago. His legs fall a little further apart as Yuuri's gaze roams upwards to where his hands are held against the headboard by a soft turquoise ribbon, gold medal glinting between them. _Yuuri's_ gold medal.

It feels _impossible_ and he's completely drunk on it still, body thrumming with adrenaline aftershocks and deep, burning pride. He can still hear the cheers echoing in the arena, still see Victor's beaming, tear-strewn face at the gate. He wants to channel all the emotion of today, of all the weeks and months leading up to it, and focus every bit of it on the man who got him here.

He walks slowly to the foot of the bed, Victor's breath hitching slightly when he stops and their eyes meet. For a few moments they only stare at each other, and then Victor bites his lip and says, "I'm just- god, Yuuri, look at you. I love you so much."

"You should," Yuuri says, and the power of it swoops and surges in his gut. "I'm the best in the whole world."

"Yeah," Victor breathes, and his eyes glitter as Yuuri puts a knee up on the mattress. He's still wearing that black thong so tiny it might as well not be there, but his cock is straining at the fabric now, a damp patch at the tip. Yuuri climbs up properly, running a hand up Victor's thigh and tracing his fingers just a few inches shy of where Victor clearly wants them.

"You're so desperate for me, Vityen'ka."

"Of course I am." Victor twists his hips after Yuuri's touch. "You tied me to the bed and left me here, like you didn't even want to claim your prize…"

"I was in the bathroom for maybe a minute."

"Yes, and it was _awful_ ," Victor says with a pout, and he looks so perfect, bound and mostly-naked and clearly irked that Yuuri isn't already fucking him, that Yuuri feels a swell of affection and desire so strong it's almost overwhelming. He hitches Victor's knee a little higher and kisses it gently before crawling forward over him to kiss him on the mouth. He hears the medal thump against the headboard as Victor strains upwards to kiss back, mouth going slack as Yuuri tangles a hand in his hair.

"You look good like this," he says when they part, kissing Victor's cheek and his nose and his forehead as he sighs under the attention. "Ready for me to do whatever I want to you."

"Am I not ready enough for that the rest of the time?" There's a note of genuine concern in Victor's voice and Yuuri laughs and shakes his head, fingers still working mindlessly through Victor's soft hair.

"You're perfect."

"Good," Victor says, and turns to kiss the heel of Yuuri's hand. "I want to be everything you deserve, _zolotse_."

It's a staple amongst the impressive roster of affectionate nicknames that Victor has for him, but tonight it sits a little hotter in his chest, and he frames Victor's face with both hands to kiss him again, harder, before trailing his mouth away and down his neck. He pauses twice to suck bruises into Victor's pale skin, and presses a calming hand over his heart when Victor gasps and stammers his name.

It had never felt like this with anyone else, the way it does with Victor, the way that he melts at Yuuri's every touch and seems to draw Yuuri down with him as he does. Victor needs him so much and so openly that it's profoundly settling, all the frantic energy of competition distilling in Yuuri's head to a clear and singular point of desire.

"I'll never forget how amazing you were today," Victor murmurs as Yuuri runs a hand over his chest and follows it with his mouth. "You were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I wanted to throw myself at you as soon as you came off the ice."

"You _did_ kiss my skate in the kiss and cry."

"Yes, but I do that all the time," Victor says with a dissatisfied huff. "Nobody thinks anything of it anymore." Yuuri knows how to operate Google and would beg to disagree, but he just kisses Victor's stomach wetly and then puffs a breath after it, making Victor jump. "I wanted everyone to see you skate like _that_ and then see just what it does to me. I wanted everyone to know I'm _yours_."

Yuuri pauses and swallows hard against the sudden, flaring urge to roll Victor onto his stomach and push into him right away. His boxer briefs feel suddenly, terribly constricting, and it's a moment before he can look up to meet Victor's eyes and notice for the first time since he left the bathroom the buzz of noises around them. For some reason the JOC had deemed him worthy of having a room to himself, but there's no escaping the fact that they're in a block full of Japanese athletes all clearly determined to party with the best of them. He can hear shouting and laughter down the hall, the hockey team two floors down blasting Babymetal for the third night in a row.

"There's plenty of people to tell now," he says, and feels a little thrill in his bones as he adds with affected nonchalance, "shall I open the window so they can hear you better? Maybe pull back the curtains too?"

Victor's eyes go wide and his cock twitches in his ridiculous underwear. If he's going to push Yuuri's buttons then Yuuri's going to push right back. After another long moment staring at each other, Victor sighs deeply. "I wish you would… but if you leave me all alone on this bed again I think I might _die_."

"Well I can't have that." Yuuri laughs softly, and ducks to kiss Victor's hipbone before tugging at the hem of his thong. "I think I've had enough of this being in my way," he says, and looks up to meet Victor's eyes again before pulling hard at the narrow strings over his hips. Victor gasps delightedly as Yuuri practically shreds his underwear, as if they weren't both perfectly aware that he unpicks the seams himself to facilitate just this sort of thing. His cock falls flushed and heavy against his hip and Yuuri can't help licking his lips. He hasn't really planned tonight out, the way he sometimes likes to do, but Victor is always a profound source of inspiration.

He slides a hand under each of Victor's knees and hoists them up onto his shoulders so Victor is barely even lying on the bed anymore, the medal flashing between his hands as the muscles in his arms tense. Yuuri nuzzles at the inside of his thigh, leaving a soft kiss and a little nip, and then takes Victor's cock in his mouth.

Victor's moan is _definitely_ louder than usual, and Yuuri hums a little as he savours the taste of him, salty and musky and so hot on his tongue. He takes his time, steadying Victor's hips in his hands and hollowing his cheeks as Victor praises him in effusive- and loud- Japanese. Yuuri can't remember who's in the room next to them. He hopes it's not Minami. It's probably Minami.

"Oh _Yuuri_ ," Victor gasps, and he _has_ to be rattling the headboard like that deliberately. "You're incredible, I love your mouth on me, so good, Yuuri, so good to me, I- _fuck_ -" and he's shaking the headboard again much less voluntarily as Yuuri traces the pad of his thumb down over his perineum to circle his rim. " _Yuuri_ ," he whimpers delightfully, and then a moment later, "wait, wait."

Yuuri lifts his head, licking the taste of Victor's pre-come off his lips. Victor somehow blushes at that, as if his dick hasn't been in Yuuri's mouth on several hundred occasions.

"I want to come with you inside me," he says, breathless but incredibly sweet. Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

"Do you really think you're only going to come _once_ tonight?"

Victor's blush deepens. "Darling, I'm an old man."

"You're not even thirty yet." He kisses Victor's inner thigh again. "But if you really don't think you can keep up with an Olympic gold medallist…"

"I can keep up," Victor says quickly, eyes flashing, and it's not entirely true but Yuuri loves it when he gets competitive.

"Good," he says, "because I want you to come on my cock too. I want you to come a lot of times."

One of Victor's arms twitches, like he can't quite suppress the reflex to press a dramatic hand to his forehead. "Here lies Victor Nikiforov," he intones with as much solemnity as a naked man tied to a bed could ever muster, "noted figure skating coach and dog-spotter, laid low by his handsome fiancé's impressive sexual stamina. He died doing what he loved."

Yuuri forces his face into the most sober expression he can manage, says gravely, "Sleep peacefully," and puts his mouth back on Victor's cock.

There's nothing about this he doesn't love. He's always enjoyed giving head but Victor is something special; the way he tastes and feels, how needy he is and how responsive, like everything Yuuri does is the best thing he's ever felt. His heels are sliding against the fabric of Yuuri's jacket between his shoulder blades, beautiful thighs clenching around his head and pressing against the arms of his glasses, and Yuuri feels giddy with the rush of it. He's the only one who can take Victor apart like this. He's the only one in the world good enough to satisfy Victor.

Soon, too soon, Victor's gasping again and his hips are bucking and Yuuri's mouth is flooded with the taste of him as Victor's legs go slack over his shoulders. He lowers him back down to the bed slowly.

"Wow," Victor says dreamily, "amazing," and then wriggles his arms slightly. "My shoulders are cramping a bit. Could you…?" Yuuri reaches up to untie the knot that's holding his hands to the headboard, but Victor shakes his head before he can loosen the one binding them together. "I don't think I'm done being at your mercy just yet, am I?" he says, and winks.

"No, not just yet," Yuuri agrees with a smile, settling down on his side and pulling Victor close as he lowers his arms. The medal gleams against his pale stomach, and Yuuri kisses his neck again, softly, until Victor turns to meet his lips. The kiss is slow and utterly filthy, and Yuuri slides his hands down Victor's back to caress the perfect swell of his ass.

"Now who's desperate?" Victor murmurs against his mouth, his fingers slipping under the waistband of Yuuri's boxers.

"Still you."

"Mmm. True."

"And you know I can't deny you anything…" He slips a finger between Victor's cheeks and circles his hole again, kissing the groan back into his mouth. Every teasing touch has Victor rutting his hips forward and it's not too long before Yuuri feels his cock stirring with interest again as it grinds alongside his own erection. He smiles into the kiss. He always wears Victor out eventually, but rarely that quickly.

" _Yuu-riii…_ you're such a tease." Victor has worked both hands into Yuuri's boxers now and starts stroking his fingertips up and down his dick, and whether it's an attempt at retribution or just regular hypocrisy Yuuri can't tell.

"I thought I was going to get to do whatever I wanted."

"Do you want me to _suffer_?"

Yuuri responds by rolling away- met with an aggrieved huff from Victor- to reach for where they left the lube on the bedside table. He squeezes some out onto his fingers and parts Victor's cheeks again, working into him smoothly and crooking his fingers to press against his prostate. Victor makes a low, guttural gasp and turns his face into Yuuri's neck, pressing messy kisses to his skin.

"I already told you what I wanted," Yuuri murmurs into his ear, matching the pressure of his fingers to the breathy little noises Victor is making. "I want to make you come."

"Ahhh." Victor mouths at his neck again and then digs his teeth in just enough to give Yuuri a matching bruise. "I think I'd- ahh- definitely come if you- you used something bigger." He emphasises the last word with a forward motion of his hips and Yuuri can't help a groan of his own. Victor starts working one side of his underwear down over his hip as best he can, and Yuuri can't help laughing as he slides his fingers back out, wiping them off on the offending boxer briefs before pulling them off properly.

"Finally," Victor says, eyes fixed hungrily on Yuuri's cock until Yuuri tips his chin up to kiss him.

"I want you on your knees for me, Vityen'ka," he says, and Victor shivers, smiles and complies.

His back curves beautifully as he lowers his head to his hands, and he looks back at Yuuri settling in behind him with a little smirk before wiggling his butt teasingly.

"Don't worry, I was already looking," Yuuri says, reaching for the lube again. Victor is so beautiful like this, body muscular and graceful and with the kind of ass that only twenty-five years of figure skating can give a person. The sight of him still makes Yuuri's mouth go dry with want. He spreads a palmful of lube over his own cock and takes a hold of Victor's hips again to ease forward and into him.

They both sigh practically in unison once Yuuri is fully seated. There's nothing on earth as good as this, being buried in Victor where he belongs and seeing the look of utter satisfaction on Victor's face, like he was made for this. He was made for Victor too, made to give him everything he needs. He makes a slow, careful initial thrust and Victor hums appreciatively, eyes closing as he presses his face to the bed.

"Mmm Yuuri," he says, even louder than before, "I _love_ your big cock in me."

At some point Yuuri is going to have to look whoever's in the room next door in the face, and he'll probably drop dead on the spot from embarrassment, but at the moment it seems like a much higher priority to say, "Sorry, I didn't catch that," and fuck into Victor a little harder.

"You're- _god_ \- you're perfect, Yuuri, I need you to fill me up."

"Like this?" Yuuri's settling into a rhythm now, nice and slow to start, pleasure sliding sweet and hot through his body. Somehow every time they fuck it still feels a little like the first time, like everything is right at the brink of being too much.

"Thought about this all day," Victor says between ragged breaths. "Watching you skate, the moment- ahh- the moment I realised no-one could possibly beat you… I wanted you so much… wanted you inside me, Yuuri…"

"You have me," he gasps, "always, I'm yours," and he keeps one hand at Victor's hip while running the other up the slope of his back, tangling in his hair and tugging, and Victor practically sobs in delight as his head arches back and his mouth falls open.

He wants to make this last, for both of them, wants to draw out Victor's pleasure until he's utterly wrecked, but he's too strung out from everything about today and Victor's slick heat is far, far too intoxicating. Yuuri lets go of his hair and reaches down to take hold of his cock, stroking in time with own thrusts, and Victor moans his name loud enough that they probably heard it in the next _block_.

"Can you come for me, Vitya?" he asks raggedly. Victor turns his head and when their eyes meet something bright and hot arcs between them, sparking through Yuuri's bones.

"I'd do anything for you, _zolotse_ ," Victor says, voice trembling, and then he's spilling in Yuuri's hand with a groan. He's impossibly beautiful, hair askew, flushed face damp with sweat and tears, hands still bound up and tangled with the second-best thing that Yuuri has ever won. It's more than enough. His fingers dig into Victor's hip as he comes inside him, shaking.

They both collapse sideways with a sigh and Yuuri starts to pull out as his cock softens a little, but Victor makes a grumbling noise and wriggles back against him.

"You're not too sensitive?" Yuuri asks. The first time Victor asked him not to pull out, he'd been so turned on by the idea that he was raring to go again almost immediately, but he's always a little worried that it might be too much, that it might be something Victor wants for him more than something he wants for himself.

"No. I don't want you to go." Victor's back is pressed right against his chest now, and Yuuri kisses his shoulder softly before wrapping an arm around his waist. "Let me keep you warm."

"You're so good to me, Vitya," Yuuri murmurs, and Victor makes a pleased little noise. For a little while they just lie there, still so intimately entangled, heartbeats slowing and the sweat slowly cooling on their skin. The hockey team downstairs are playing Aldious now, the same album Mari had taken to blasting at high volume towards the end of his and Victor's months in Hasetsu. At some point Yuuri's going to have to make some attempt at socialising with the rest of the team; his gold is the first for Japan this year, so he should probably to try to be motivational somehow. 'Do your best, and you too could spend the evening balls deep in the man of your dreams'. He might have to tweak it for the women.

"I can't believe I get to marry you in April," Victor says eventually, voice soft but still a little unsteady. "I'm going to tell everyone I meet about my _husband_ , the Olympic gold medallist."

At the word 'husband' Yuuri feels his heart flutter and his cock twitch; Victor hums at the latter and makes a small, encouraging motion with his hips, and Yuuri stifles a laugh.

"Already?"

"I told you I could keep up."

"You did." Yuuri isn't all the way hard again yet but he thrusts forward gently just to hear Victor's happy little groan in response. "If you're feeling so energetic, how about you ride me this time?"

"On one condition." Victor sighs with exaggerated heaviness before easing himself off Yuuri's dick, then rolls over so they're face to face. He lifts his hands, still bound together with the soft turquoise ribbon of the medal. "You should wear this. I want to see it on you again."

"Okay." Yuuri sits up slightly and traces his fingers over Victor's wrists before he starts loosening the knot. Once his hands are free Victor takes the medal, wetting his lips as he drapes it slowly around Yuuri's neck. The metal is cool against his skin, the weight just enough to be a reminder.

"Beautiful," Victor says, and nudges Yuuri's team jacket off his shoulders so the only thing he's wearing is Olympic gold. Yuuri takes Victor's face in his hands and kisses him, trying to fill it with everything he can't manage the words for.

They kiss again as they both sit up, again as Yuuri settles himself against the headboard, again as Victor straddles his thighs, like any moment with their lips apart is almost too much to bear. They finally part for a little longer as Victor sinks down onto him and presses his palms to Yuuri's chest. He looks- well, like a man who's already been thoroughly fucked, his hair a mess, face blotched red and smiling, eyes alight with a devotion that makes Yuuri's heart ache.

"Love you," he mumbles, and Victor's face somehow brightens even more. Yuuri settles his hands on Victor's strong, gorgeous thighs and traces little circles with his thumbs, enjoying the view as Victor slowly fucks himself on his cock.

"I want you to wear this all the time," Victor says. "Especially in bed."

"You should wear your Sochi medal too." Something sparks all hot and prickling in his mind, the idea of their past and their future pressed in physical form between them as they make love; Victor seems to agree, and leans forward for another kiss, his hips never stilling from their slow and delicious pace. Yuuri can feel his own come still slick inside him and another rush of heat curls through him at the thought of adding to it, of marking Victor as his own inside and out.

They take more time, now, their vigour a little diminished. There's only one lamp on in the room and every beloved line of Victor's body is traced in soft light, and the force of everything Yuuri feels for him is strong enough to free him from gravity.

"I love you," he says again, reaching up his right hand to cup Victor's face. "I could never have done this without you." Victor turns to nuzzle his palm.

"You were born to wear gold, my Yuuri," he says, and kisses Yuuri's ring, and it's so sweet and melodramatic and utterly, perfectly _Victor_ that he can't help a delighted laugh, pulling him close and kissing him with a hand tangled in his soft hair. It's all that he wants to be, past every gold medal, every international title. He always wants to be Victor's Yuuri.

Victor won't let him take the medal off, after, when they're lying sweaty and entangled on top of the pink Olympic comforter. He traces one finger around the edge of it, while his other hand draws nonsense patterns on Yuuri's hip.

"Do you want to go to any events tomorrow?" Yuuri asks, pushing Victor's damp fringe away from his eyes. "There's probably some hockey."

"Hmm. As the coach of an Olympic athlete, am I still allowed to loudly disparage the referee?"

"We'll find you a big fake moustache so no-one will suspect it's you."

The drama of Victor's gasp is only slightly diminished by sleepiness. "Yuuri! You'd be seen at a hockey match with a strange moustachioed man who wasn't your fiancé?"

"Good point. We'll get one for me too. No-one will suspect a thing."

"You're so smart, _zolotse_." Victor snuggles closer, tucking his head under Yuuri's chin. "Shower soon?"

"Mmm. In a little bit." He wants to just hold Victor for a little longer, let every minute of the fading evening last as long as possible like straw spun out into gold. He can take the time if he wants. He's earned it.


End file.
